


Dodgy Kippers

by pink_glove (backbedroomcasualty)



Category: Arctic Monkeys, Oasis (Band), The Smiths
Genre: 1970s, 1980s, 2000s, F/M, I Tried, I failed, I only put Jarvis in here because it was either him Def Leppard or Cabaret Voltaire, I tried merging two fics together, Love Triangle, There are only so many people from Sheffield, Time Travel, Vague David Bowie references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-03 07:17:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4092016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backbedroomcasualty/pseuds/pink_glove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imogen Cole is an average 15 year old girl from Sheffield. Except she can time travel. Imogen Cole is an unusual 15 year old girl from Sheffield, then. And she's in a particularly bizarre love triangle.<br/>Aka what not to do if Alex Turner falls in love with you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Old Grey School

**Author's Note:**

> I'm crap at summaries sorry. Just begin reading it and you'll get the gist. You don't even need to like either of these two bands I guess, but I'm not sure why you would come here if you didn't like them. I didn't actually base the character on myself either, apart from the hatred of Duran Duran.  
> Set in 2001.

If there's one thing I can't stand, it's people who aren't dreamers. You know, people who don't stare into the sky but would rather sit on their arses watching TV whilst they laugh stupidly at people doing stupid things. I mean when you think about life realistically, it's a bit rubbish, so you've got to learn to be able to hope and dream or else you'll go a bit mad.

My dad always used to tell me things like that, and when I was little he'd stick them up as these giant poster quotes on my bedroom wall (or the wonderwall as he'd call it). We played Wonderwall at his funeral. Life went crap after he died, like really bloody bleak. I didn't know how we'd cope to be honest, my mother and I. She had to find a new job, which meant that we had to move from our lovely little house in Liverpool to some crap flat in Sheffield. Start fresh, which my mother said would be for the best.

So then I found myself in a new school in a new city with no friends. Great. The school was big, slightly dilapidated and pretty much like my old school, I noticed as I stood outside the front door. The receptionist ushered me to my new form room, where I was introduced to the class and took the nearest available chair to the front of the classroom.

"Hello!" A smiling red haired girl with freckles greeted me quietly as I took my seat.

"Hi," I answered shyly as I put my bag down.

"I'm Sophie, you can sit with us as lunch if you want and I can show you around," she beaked. I said thank you awkwardly, wondering who 'us' meant.

The lessons seemed fairly normal and the teachers were nice enough, and at lunchtime Sophie finally introduced me to her group. There a few girls and a few lads, who all seemed nice enough.

"I'm Jamie, where're you from?" One boy asked politely.

"I'm Imogen, I just moved here from Liverpool," I explained.

"Nice!" One girl whistled. She politely offered us all some gummy bears, which I had to refuse.

"Sorry, I'm a veggie," I told her, without wishing to sound rude.

"Oh yeah, of course it's fine." God, everyone was so polite here, it was even slightly uncomfortable. The rest of the lessons sort of slid by and I tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible so as to not attract attention. The bell signalling the end of the day was most certainly a relief.

"So you know where you're going home?" Gummy bear girl asked me.

"Yeah, I'll be fine!" I lied confidently and set off out of the gates, where I knocked my school bag into someone clumsily.

"Imogen!" Someone called me from behind. I spun around and all I could see was some spotty kid dressed in school uniform who was staring at me. He began to move forward towards me in a small jog.

"What do you want?" I snapped back in confusion. How did he know my name? I'd only been at this school for a day, and I sort of wanted to get back home as quickly as possible.

"This fell out of your school bag," he smiled at me once he caught up, and produced a pencil case from behind his back. He was very spotty, now that I could see him better, with sort of short brown hair.

"Oh, uh thanks," I replied, snatching it from him and turning around to go back home, not that I knew which direction home was. Annoyingly enough, he started to walk beside me and began a conversation.

"I'm Alex, I was sat next to you in English this morning." He introduced himself, though I couldn't remember him at all, and I began to walk slightly faster. Noticing this, he stopped walking after a few seconds and muttered a goodbye without hanging around for a response. Thank god for that, I thought.

"How was school dear?" Mother asked from the kitchen as I arrived home about an hour later than planned. I'd caught the wrong bus and ended up going in the opposite direction, typical me.

"It was alright, met some new people, nobody started bullying me or anything and the teachers seem sane," I muttered back, putting the keys in the jar in the landing. The TV was on, blaring some boring documentary about the 80s or something. I watched it absent mindedly for a few minutes before giving up on it.

"Look, I know it's difficult settling in, but you'll manage. It's in our family," mother said as she popped out of the kitchen.

"I'm fine mum, honestly," I assured her.

"Well then... Are there any cute boys?" She smirked at me.

"Mum!" I laughed, and threw a cushion at her.

"Well I've got a job for you missy," She continued. "We've still got some boxes of junk to unpack and sort that you could be getting on wi- Ooh Culture Club!" She got distracted by the television. At that point I decided to get up and sort the boxes out rather than stay in there. "Ah Duran Duran, my loves..."

"God mum, why can't you have a decent taste in music?" I complained as searched for the boxes in the other room.

"Well your blooming band are on there now!" She yelled back, and I could faintly hear 'This Charming Man' by The Smiths being played in the background. I shut the door and got to work in the dark, stuffy room. The boxes had old books and records mainly (sadly my mother's and not my dad's old stuff), as well as a few old trinkets. There was a nice emerald bracelet of hers which I set aside, and a very peculiar watch with no numbers on it, just hands and a date display, which was pretty useless. Still, it was nice so I shoved it in my blazer pocket and hoped my mum wouldn't notice.

"Done", I said casually as I strolled back into the living room.

"Look how gorgeous Robert Smith looks there!" Mother sighed, barely acknowledging me.

"Sure mum," I rolled my eyes secretly. So this was my new life...


	2. Rock n Roll Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of updates - I sort of forgot about this fic and what the storyline was?  
> Also, Moz will turn up in a few chapters time I've got it all under control.

The next day at school I was slightly wary in case Alex came up to me again. As it turned out, he was good friends with another boy in the group, Matt. It didn't matter though, because for once I felt almost cool when I was hanging around these people. He was very quiet and seemed more bothered about eating his lunch than chatting to the rest of us, so I tried my best to ignore him.

"So what sort of music do you like?" Matt asked politely, eating a packet of roast beef crisps.

"Uh Oasis and The Smiths and all that I guess," It turns out that that is a very difficult question.

"I like those bands," Alex said quietly without looking up. Matt raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you said you were from Liverpool? Aren't you supposed to hate Manchester or something?"

"Good bands though," I admitted.

"I'm really into the Strokes right now as well," at this point Alex stopped eating and with a mouthful of sandwich in his mouth he gasped "I Love the Strokes!" Which made everyone else on the table laugh slightly.

"He does you know," gummy bear girl sniggered. "So what was you old school like?"

"Shit really, I got bullied a lot. I mean I had a lot of friends and stuff so it wasn't that bad. Then my dad died and I moved here over the summer." I said without trying to sound too emotional about it. "

Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Sophie replied sympathetically. "Hey do you want to come out with the gang on Saturday? We're going watching a film,"

"Yeah, thanks!" I answered ecstatically. Did they actually like me as friends? Seriously?

"Do you want my number?" I fished a piece of paper and pen out of my pocket and scribbled it down. "Here," and handed it to her.

"Mum! Mum!" I yelled as I came through the door, an hour earlier than I had done last night.

"What love?" She shouted back from the living room.

"Can I go and meet my new friends on Saturday?" I asked tentatively.

"Well I don't see why not, it'll be good for you to go and meet them," I silently punched the air and hoped she didn't see me.

My room in the new flat seemed so bare and lifeless compared to my old one. The teddy bears were packed away, the wonderwall was gone and the only things that were on the walls of the cramped little box were a poster of Blur in the corner and a cut out of a NME article on Damon Albarn. It was quite sad really, but there was no point in feeling sorry for myself. I dumped my bag onto the floor and began an English essay, before my phone suddenly buzzed.

"Hi it's Al," the text message read. That creep Alex? The one with the acne and funny nose? I tossed it aside, not bothering to reply. Why was I being so harsh on him, come to think of it. He'd only actually been nice to me...

"Dinner's ready!" Mum knocked, and I opened the door to go and have my tea. When I came back to my room I had another message: "you have gr8 taste in music!" Which was sweet of him. I had never had a boy hit on me before, so this was new for me. That's if it actually was flirting. Maybe he was just very polite? I flung my phone onto the bed in confusion and closed my exercise book.

"Why do teenage boys have to exist?" I sighed to myself, and threw my shoes off as I put a CD on. My head hit the bed as Liam Gallagher burst into singing 'Rock n Roll Star'. "Why can't rock stars fall in love with me instead?"

When Saturday morning rolled around I couldn’t be more excited. I was finally moving on, getting a new life and new friends (I wasn’t a loser!), friends who actually seemed sort of cool and funny.

“Meet @ 1.30 outside bus station” read Sophie’s text, which gave me time to get ready- a nice dress and cute shoes should do it,not that I knew much about clothes- and maybe a nice necklace. I went to put on the emerald one I found the other day, and remembering the funny watch I decided to take another look at that.

“Can you pick me up some kippers from the market if I give you some money?” Mother called from the other room.

“I’m not going to hang out with my mates when I’ve got a bag of fish mum!” I yelled back.

“I’ll leave you a fiver in the kitchen!”

“I’m a sodding vegetarian!”

“So?” I rolled my eyes and decided to tinker with the watch rather than answer back. In the centre of it there was a little symbol, perhaps indicating that the hands were to show battery level instead of time, which was odd. The display also had four digits, which was normal, but seemed to show years instead of months and days, for it was showing 1978. I tossed it onto the top of my wardrobe, but decided to pick it up again to adjust it, and pushed the dial on the side.

Then I blacked out.


	3. Something Changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dodgy kippers at last! This is where the story properly begins, sort of. This chapter only sort of makes sense if you know who Pulp are and the whole Britpop thing and about Michael Jackson at the Brit Awards in 1996. Wikipedia is your friend.

A second later, I opened my eyes.

“WHAT THE-” I shouted, before realising that there were hundreds of people walking around me. This wasn’t my bedroom- I must have fallen asleep, but I definitely didn’t. I looked around, and saw that I must have, ironically, appeared in a market or something for there were stalls all around me. I pinched myself. It hurt. I began to panic- if it wasn’t for the fact that I was in public I would have screamed and began to cry out of confusion and helplessness. Had I been drugged? Why did everyone look so... strange and olden?

“Can I help you?” A youngish male voice asked from behind. I turned around to face a gangly bespectacled being behind a fish stall. “You look a bit white, you know, pale like you’ve seen a ghost,”

“WHERE THE BLOODY HELL AM I?” I squealed, which made him jump back a bit.

“...Castle Markets….” he began, not knowing how to reply,”...Sheffield… England… the Solar System… the Milky W-”

“How did I get here?” I snapped at his unhelpfulness.

“I dunno, bus?” He shrugged as he pushed his glasses back up his nose. I pushed my head into my hands and began to cry, not knowing what on earth was going on.

“Jarvis, stop making innocent ladies weep with despair at the sight of you and get back to selling fish!” Someone yelled from the other side of the stall

“I’ll be done in 5 minutes, you go and wait in the cafe over there,” he whispered as he broke into a more serious and concerned face, tilting his head in the direction of a little cafe. I nodded, and stumbled away with my hands still stuck to my face like an idiotic little girl.

After a few minutes he got a seat next to me with two mugs of tea.

“Why is everything so... cheap?” I asked slightly deliriously. “20p for a mug of tea?”

“Y-es,” he answered awkwardly as if I’d just suggested that the earth was round.

“Oh god I need to get going, I need to sort myself out and find out what’s happened to me!” I sighed as he handed me the mug.

“I think you should explain what’s happened,” he began,”you do sort of come across as if you’ve just come out of Doctor Who’s TARDIS onto the planet Zogg,” he smiled in an oddly comforting way.

“Isn’t that that old TV show that got cancelled in the 80s?’ I asked dazedly, feeling like a bit of an idiot. He looked like the classic lanky sci-fi geek with no friends.

“It’s 1979?” He frowned back. Oh dear. One of us had definitely gone mad.

“1979! That’s the watch thingy!” I jabbered at him like a madwoman, as I scrambled for it in my pockets and shoved the display in his face.

“And?” He said back worriedly as he sipped at his tea. Then he suddenly looked right at me as our eyes, well my eyes and his giant glasses, met.

“NO!”

“Surely not!” I said back with the same bewildered expression.

“How?”

“The watch! But it IS 2001! It’ll show it on my phone!” I tried to reason, but it wasn’t working.

“I’m not going back to your house with you to look at your phone- why would that help anyway?” I could tell he was beginning to mark me off as a mad weirdo he should have never spent any time on.

“No I mean my mobile!” I explained as I showed the date on the top of the digital screen to him.

“Oh my god what is that?” He asked in amazement.

“Don’t be bloody stupid it’s a mobile,” I said, beginning to doubt even basic facts at this point.

“That is definitely from the future,” he looked at me suspiciously again. “Start from the beginning, I’ll believe anything if I have to,” he said calmly as he mopped up the tea he’d just spilt on himself. “If it makes you feel any less weird I’ll introduce myself,” he soothed as he sat upright and composed himself. “The name’s Cocker, Jarvis Cocker,” he said in a crap James Bond impression which made me giggle slightly. I brushed the name off as a lucky coincidence

“Ooh are you that Michael Jackson bum bloke?” I asked, dropping my scared weirdo aura completely for a few seconds.

“I have no idea what any of that means,” he blinked back. I decided to edge my chances.

“Are you in, or do you want to be in a band?” I asked rather smugly.

“How did you know that? Yeah, its called Arabacus Pulp,” he said rather oddly, as if he was sort of proud of himself for looking cool enough to be in a band “we’re crap really,” he admitted, finishing his drink. My jaw dropped as he uttered the last word. Pulp? No, it couldn’t be. This was getting far too weird. Yet all of this was too good for it to not be true- it all added up to much - a teenage Jarvis Cocker going on about his new band Pulp- could this really be true?

“I’m uh Imogen Cole, I’m originally from Liverpool but I just moved to Sheffield,” I told him, trying to gather my thoughts “and I love music. I prefer Oasis to Pulp though, sorry!” I added cheekily, before remembering that it would make no sense to him so I was off the hook for the next fifteen years.

“Oasis?” He raised his thin eyebrows.

“They’re a band from the future,” I explained, not wanting to give too much away, and definitely nothing away about his own future.

“They sound terrible, then again I can’t think of a normal band name that’s around these days,” he sounded terribly grown up for his age, which must have been around mine. That made me feel odd. A middle aged man being the same age as you, it was like meeting your parents. “Wait, do I get famous in the future? You seem to know this stuff about me, being in a band and stuff,” I ignored his question and focused on what he had asked before.

“So yeah, I found this watch,” I started as I placed it on the table “in an old box in my flat when I was unpacking, so this morning, which is a Saturday?” He nodded. “I was getting ready to go out and meet my friends, when my mum yelled something about kippers at the market, and I started messing around with the watch, and then I ended up here all the way from 2001 AND I’M NEVER GOING TO SEE MY FRIENDS AND FAMILY EVER AGAIN OH MY GOD” I burst into tears as the reality hit me like a ton of bricks. He softly patted my back to try and comfort me, which came across more awkward than calming. We must have looked very weird to whoever was around us in the cafe.

“There there,” he hushed in his croakily deep tone, as he carefully examined the watch. “What if you just set it back to 2001 and then you’d end up in the markets again, but at the present day, wouldn’t you?” He said quite simply. It made sense, so as I dried my eyes I adjusted the button and clicked it in place.

**Blackout, again.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been watching a lot of Pulp documentaries sorry.


End file.
